


Times and Spaces

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:14:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mabel’s months go by with long rides, long kisses, and tall cups of hot coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Times and Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> A rushed job, so pardon me for the pacing.

**_May_ **

Mabel adjusts the orange dahlia on her ear while she looks out the window of the bus to Gravity Falls. It’s been hours since she left California and she’s nothing but excited to see her brother again after two months apart. She has to bite her lip to avoid grinning wildly in her excitement. She made sure the dress she wore today is one of her prettiest – a floral one, salmon and black and reminiscent of some old French designer.

She wants Dipper to fawn over her. It’s her best revenge. Dipper has just been so stubborn. He moved to Gravity Falls without anyone’s consent; he hardly calls to ask how she’s doing. It’s infuriating.

It’s eleven o’clock, she notices, and she’s finally arrived. Everything’s dark and wet and it feels just like home.

She wonders what time it is New York, and she wonders if Norman’s awake. She wonders, briefly, if she should call and tell him she’s here. He might already be worrying.

She takes her phone out of her purse. She fiddles with its yellow rubber case. She slides the screen to unlock. Then, she thinks, ponders.

She decides against it.

This is her time for boyfriend #1: her twin brother.

This is her time for the boy who’s standing there waiting for her at the terminal, with his mouth curved into a smile and his skin all dirty and sweaty from lack of good hygiene.

How they’d see each other is something she’s played in her head time and again.

They’d both be smiling. They’d both be running to each other. He’d take her in his arms and he’d spin her around like a child. He’d kiss her, on the cheek and not on the lips. They’d laugh, and Dipper would tear up, just a bit.

Mabel expects it and she jumps for it.

Yes, she makes sure they do exactly as she imagined.

+

Dipper cuddles her tight on the bed. She asks him if he thinks her dahlia is pretty. He says of course it is, but he thinks she should take it off for now. He smiles at her and slips his fingers against her ear to grab the flower’s stem. She feels him on her earlobe. She blushes at his touch.

So much for revenge.

They’re kissing each other with a little hesitation. It’s soft and chase. Neither of them makes use of his or her tongue. Dipper is grabbing on to Mabel’s back and Mabel is grabbing on to the hem of Dipper’s shirt. She wants to get out of her dress. It feels too tight and she can’t breathe in it.

+

Everything with Dipper is done privately, in the solace of their dimly lit room in the attic of the shack they spent summer after summer in.

Every single morning, he makes her a cup of coffee. She’s always thought Dipper made the best cups. It’s always warm and it always gives her a feeling of comfort. She doesn’t know exactly what makes it different from any other cup of coffee.

They have their tall cups on the floor. Mabel is sitting against the bed and Dipper is sitting across from her. He tells her one story – a story of an adventure he had while she was away. He promises to tell her one story for every single day she’s here. He tells her that he may even make it two, “if, you know—“ and then he blushes, because she knows. Yes, she knows.

She thinks he’s probably lying to her, though. Not all those stories could be real.

She knows he barely leaves the house.

But she doesn’t mention it. She just tries instead to make the most of what they have.

Every morning, Mabel finds that their kisses get more feverous and needy. She finds that her grip on Dipper’s arm hardens and tightens for every single day that she realizes their time together is waning.

“I love you, Mabel,” Dipper tells her, as they kiss on a day when rain is tapping on their window, making such loud reverberations.

Mabel has to pause, because she wants to pick her words carefully. They have their foreheads together, and Dipper’s breath is hot against her mouth.

“Yes, I know,” she says, softly, with a gulp following her words.

Dipper smirks, almost like he’s expecting the answer.

This is how they spend their month.

It’s depressing.

May flies by without so much as a warning.

 

**_June_ **

 

Norman’s car is a black Mercedes and Mabel feels oh so fancy riding in its passenger seat. She and Norman eye each other, smile, and bite their lips throughout the whole trip from Newark Airport to Norman’s apartment. It’s an hour away, mostly because of the traffic jam. Mabel put One Direction’s Take Me Home into the radio to keep them company.

Norman is the one who sings along.

“I’m tryin’ to be okay—“ A pause. “I’m tryin’ to be alright—“ A pause. “But seeing you with him—“ Yet another pause. “Just don’t feel right—“

“AND I’M LIKE _OWW_.”

His shoulders are moving along with the song, and Mabel laughs her heart out.

“Dear Lord,” she exclaims, her head tilting back from laughing.

They laugh, the both of them, and Mabel begins singing along too. Norman loves patronizing her and her interests, and she adores him for it. Dipper never does this for her. He only likes dated balladeers and Norwegian pop sensations.

“You really are my favorite boy, Normy,” Mabel says.

“I don’t think you really mean that, Mabe” Norman says, with a short chuckle and a huff.

“Oh, but I do.”

“Lies!”

“But I do!”

“Why such lies, my sweet? Why?” Norman tries this in his best dramatic voice.

Again, Mabel laughs her heart out. “God!” she cries, acting out, shaking her head, facing Norman, and pretending to cry like a Shakespearean actress. “Why dost thine boyfriend not believeth me!”

This is how it is with boyfriend #2: always open and always happy.

And he isn’t supposed to be the funny one, the one that makes her laugh. But he is. He’s never quiet, with her. He always has something to say. Although she does remember a time when didn’t. She remembers it clearly, how he blushed hard when they first kissed and how he couldn’t even say her name without stammering.

Maybe it’s the New York weather. Maybe it’s the people. Maybe it’s his job at the ad agency. Maybe it’s her. Though putting it on herself may be a tad bit narcissistic.

And, really, it must be because of the ghosts. Or rather: the lack thereof.

+

They spend their days telling each other sweet nothings. Yes, sweet nothings – words Mabel loves, because Norman is so good at telling her sweet nothings.

He says that her lips taste like cherries while they kiss in front of a newspaper stand. Norman is wearing a leather jacket with leather pants; Mabel is wearing a long brown trench coat. She has her hand on his neck while he tells her about her lips. She smiles, hard. The people around them shout that they should get a room.

He says that their hands feel like they were made for each other while they kiss inside a restaurant. They’re sitting in a booth, and Norman’s hand is right on top of hers, his pinky finger smoothing her skin. Yet again, she grins like her cheeks are about to burst. Yet again, the people around them harrumph. She herself tells them to fuck off.

He says that her breasts are like silk when they kiss and grope on a blanket in Central Park. Mabel asks him how he would even know that; they’re completely clothed. He tells her he can just tell by looking at the outline and the color. She laughs, grins. The people around them, once again, are assholes.

It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, though.

“Why do you ever have to leave?” Norman asks her that same day they kiss in the park.

“Because I don’t belong to you,” Mabel says.

And that shuts him up.

+

The real reason she’d come to New York is an invitation.

She dresses herself in a checkered blue shirtdress, a brown belt, and white high-heeled sandals. She puts on just a bit of make-up. Beforehand, she’d pestered Norman into buying her a curling iron for her hair. 

She wants to look pretty in front of Norman’s sister.

The three of them meet outside of a Starbucks, sitting under a patio umbrella. Courtney is a girl with blonde hair and with close to no resemblance to her brother.

They have a nice conversation, about the weather and about Norman’s lack of sleep because of his job. Mabel tries sprinkling in jokes here and there. Courtney looks like she appreciates it, or at least she tries to. Courtney also starts telling stories of Norman’s childhood, to which Norman can only blush to. Mabel grabs his hand, at one point, and it makes Courtney flinch.

She’s fun, Mabel thinks. She’s pretty. They like a lot of the same things.

She’s also just a bit too direct.

“Do you love my brother?”

Mabel is taken aback. Suddenly, she feels naked.

“Of course,” she says, and when she says it she’s unconvinced. Courtney is looking at her with eyes squinted. She can’t see Norman, but she can feel him staring at her. She can feel his eyes, and she can feel his worry.

She holds her cup of coffee with both her hands. She tightens her grip.

“Okay then,” Courtney says, making Mabel feel just a bit of relief. “I just wanted to make sure this girlfriend of his isn’t breaking his heart.”

Courtney looks satisfied. Mabel isn’t, even though she knows she should be.

She and Norman don’t talk after this. They are silent the whole way back to the apartment.

“Look,” is what Mabel says, before Norman puts in the key for the doorknob. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way. It just did.”

She stands face-to-face with Norman. She sees the sadness in his blue eyes, and she sees his hesitation in his tightly shut lips.

“It just feels unfair, Normy,” she says. “It feels unfair to say it.”

He scratches his head, looks down.

“It—It just—It feels wrong,” she continues.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Yes,” Mabel says, matter-of-fact. “But—But maybe it doesn’t matter, right? I mean, we don’t need to say the words to prove them, right?”

“I love you, Mabe,” he says.

Mabel really can’t help but be taken aback.

“What did I just tell you, Norman?”

“It matters to me, Mabel. It matters to me that the girl I love can’t say that she loves me back.”

“You _know_ why I can’t say it, Norman!” she yells.

“I don’t, Mabel. I really don’t.”

Mabel gulps; she feels tears almost coming out of her eyes.

“It feels like you’re making me choose,” she says, covering her face. “And I can’t do that. I can’t do that to any of you.”

“I never asked you to choose. I’m just asking for—for—“

“I can’t give you everything you ask for,” she sobs. “That’s not how things work.”

“And why the hell not?”

She looks at him. Her eyebrows furrow. She can’t even process what he just said. She can’t.

She slaps him.

There is only silence, for a few moments.

“I—I’m sorry,” Norman stammers, holding on to his cheek. “I—I didn’t mean—“

“You better be sorry,” Mabel says.

Norman doesn’t look at her.

Mabel snorts.

“Open the door,” she says.

He does what she says as soon as she says it. He fumbles with his key; he opens the door.

She grabs his arm as soon as the doorway presents itself. She pulls him in, and she closes the door with a slam. She keeps her hand on his arm, and she stares at him, waiting for him to look up.

“Look at me,” Mabel says.

He does, though slowly. There they are again: his sad eyes and his sad lips. She hates them. She hates them so much that she has to take Norman’s cheeks into her hands and squeeze his face.

“I will never forgive you for what you said,” she says, making sure she enunciates every single word. “But—“ She kisses him, speedily. “I still think we can make this work.” She kisses him again, a little bit longer this time. “But. Again, but—“

She stops, tries to find the right words.

“But I have to make things right,” he says.

“Yes.” She has to breathe in and out.

Norman nods.

“And there’s really only one way we can do that.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Mabel’s fingers curl.

“Please, Norman. You have to.”

Norman shuts his eyes.

+

She knows Dipper is in love with him, and she knows the only reason he hadn’t done anything about it is her. Because he was and is in love with her.

The whole ghost thing just complicates it more.

Sometimes, she can’t help blaming it all on Dipper, because he’s a stupid jerk who just had to meddle in other people’s lives.

Why he thought he could take on such a power is beyond her.

But, no, “I can take it,” he said. “I can. The book told me how to.” At that moment, he looked crazed and Mabel was sure she had seen nothing scarier.

She remembers the hospital bed where he lay for a whole summer. She remembers how Norman couldn’t look at him. It was only her that stood by him. Only her. She knew it worked, Dipper’s plan, and she knew he would never be the same.

When he’d woken up, he said nothing changed, that he didn’t feel any different. “I feel a bit cheated, though,” he says. 

She thinks, perhaps, there’s more he’s not saying.

June suddenly feels tight and cramped, and it hurts her heart.

 

**_December_ **

 

She gets the idea months after she leaves New York. She’s been seeing neither of them. They haven’t even been talking on the phone.

She doesn’t bother with her fancy dresses. She brings a few loose ones, and she brings her sweaters with rainbow and cat prints. She makes sure her duffel bag isn’t heavy when she leaves.

She only sent them emails. She got replies, yes, but she isn’t completely sure they’ll follow through.

Dipper meets her halfway, somewhere between LA and Gravity Falls.

“You got me out of the house,” he says, like he knows she’s been keeping his secret.

“I know. Isn’t it great?”

They drive off, with Mabel at the steering wheel. They drive off to the place in between, to a state where there’s this house, a house that Mabel thought would be perfect for all of them.

The place is anything but ugly.

Everything is green and brown and white. Grass stretches for miles. The sky is clear. The air reeks of no smoke. The house stands at the center of it all. Mabel and Dipper see it from where they park in the distance. They walk towards it, holding on to their bags with one hand and holding on to each with another. They see that it’s a wooden old thing, almost like the shack. It’s smaller, though.

There are three bedrooms, all with their own twins. The first floor has a tiny kitchen and a living room with a dusty couch.

Mabel revels in it; she feels like the house is perfect. What stops her from dwelling is the long awkward silence when Dipper sees who’s sitting at the couch when they come in.

“I—I’ll—I’ll leave. I d—don’t need—to stay—I don’t—“ Norman stutters so much, and it’s a sight Mabel hasn’t seen for a while.

“No, don’t,” Dipper says.

Norman gulps.

Mabel just stands between them, as they stare at each other.

“It’s been a long time,” Dipper says.

“I—I know.”

“It’s nice to see you.”

“You too.”

“You never called.”

Mabel arches an eyebrow. She almost bursts out into laughter right there.

She manages to hold back the whole day, as everything is done in silence. Dipper is exploring the field, looking happy and at peace for a change. Norman tries cleaning the place up, dusting all the pots and pans they might be able to use. Mabel alternates giving them company.

She finds it much easier to tell Norman what she’s thinking.

“You should talk to him,” she says.

“I will,” he tells her.

“You have to talk to him now,” she reiterates.

“Not now,” he responds. “Maybe—Maybe later—When the time’s right.”

+

The next day, she wakes up to find the sun barely shining. She’s alone in the room, alone with all the chapped wood and the smell of imminent rain.

She puts her blanket around her shoulders. She’s rubbing her eyes before she goes to the bathroom to wash her face. It’s after this that she decides to go downstairs to look for them.

She goes down slowly; she slides her hand on the hardwood wall. She doesn’t hear anything from downstairs, and she wonders if they’re even awake yet.

In the kitchen, she sees that one of them left her some biscuits on a chipped china plate. She smiles at that, and she grabs a piece and starts biting. She leans back against the countertop while she finishes her food. She feels like she could really live here, in this house that looks like it’s been built just for her. It’s wooden and secluded and it makes her feel free.

She really has to wonder, though, if Dipper and Norman are in fact awake.

She drinks some water from the tap. She takes the plate she ate from. She decides to wash it. She drops it into the sink, and she cleans it until it’s spotless.

It’s when she washes her hands and checks out the window that she notices where the two of them are.

She’s a little shocked, at first, but the shock turns into plain delight.

She watches them.

A little far off in the field, they lie next to each other, on the grass, Dipper wearing a green shirt, Norman wearing that white shirt of his with red sleeves. They’re just lying there, at first. They do nothing but look up to the clouds that shade the raise of the sun.

Norman is the one who gets on his side, on his elbow, making him suspend over Dipper.

He stays like that for a while, with Dipper turning his head to him and looking him in the eye.

One of Norman’s hands places itself on Dipper’s cheek. He thumbs Dipper’s lips. Dipper doesn’t move at all. Norman must be saying something, or Dipper must be saying something, because they pause for one too many seconds.

Norman releases Dipper slowly and he sits up, legs extended in front of him. Dipper stares. Norman turns to him quick. His mouth quirks into a smile. The wind is blowing Norman’s hair back. Dipper visibly bites his lip.

Then, the strangest thing happens.

Her brother gets on Norman’s lap, straddles the other boy. He puts his arms around Norman’s neck and stays there for a while. Norman gazes up at him, one of his hands starting to finger Dipper’s hair.

They press their lips together, and Mabel knows for sure that they’re reluctant to do it. At first, least.

Dipper pulls back and he’s staring at Norman with such a broken expression. Dipper hugs him tight, nestles his head on Norman’s shoulder. He breathes in and out through his mouth. Norman moves his head so he can smell Dipper’s hair.

They kiss again, and this time they don’t hold back.

Mabel grins wildly as she steps away from the window.

It’s minutes later when it starts to rain.

She notices them running back, and she feels like panicking. Her first instinct is to run for the couch and to pretend to be asleep.

Their footsteps are loud and their giggles are hushed when they walk into the house. “She’s asleep,” Dipper whispers. “Do you think we should wake her up and—uh—tell her?” Norman whispers back. “No, not right now. What we have to do now is go upstairs,” Dipper says. “W—Do you think she’d mind?” Norman says.

Dipper pauses.

Say no, say no, say no.

Mabel has to bite her lip.

“No, she really wouldn’t,” Dipper says.

Actually falling asleep wasn’t part of her plan. But she’s happy to wake up to her boys sitting on the couch with her. Norman had apparently moved her head on his lap. Dipper had taken her legs onto his own lap. Norman is shirtless and sleeping with his head tilted to the side. Dipper is fully clothed and reading a book.

Mabel yawns. “Hey,” she says, and he says “hey” right back. He asks her if she had a good rest and she says, “Yes. I sure did.”

“Now, is anyone’s back hurting?” she says, while she sits up and starts grinning at her brother.

Dipper flushes, says, “I knew you’d say that.”

“Answer the question, Dippy.” She draws near him, makes their arms touch.

“Yes,” Dipper says. “Mine.”

“Mmhmm,” says Mabel.

“Shut up. I just went with it.”

Mabel laughs for the first time today, and she kisses her brother’s lips. “You make me so happy, Dipper,” she says. “You always have.”

“I try my best,” Dipper says.

“Because you love me?”

Dipper pauses, looks like he’s surprised.

“Yeah,” he says, with a smirk. “Because I love you.”

+

The dining table is wooden and it’s nothing like the white plastic table in the shack or the brittle glass table in Norman’s New York apartment. They’re having coffee at midnight. They’ve got their cards on the table; they’re playing poker. Norman hasn’t put on a shirt since the morning, which isn’t something he really does, so Mabel thinks it’s probably an act of sexual prowess. Dipper, meanwhile, is the only one who hasn’t taken a shower, though at least this is something Mabel’s used to.

Dipper raises his hands and folds.

Norman gives up minutes later.

Mabel wins, alas.

Mabel sits on the table, after that, to claim her prize.

“C’mon then,” she says.

The boys smile.

On each cheek, Mabel gets a kiss from a different boy.

She stops them before their lips leave her cheeks. She catches their shoulders around her arms and presses all of them together.

They all end up lying down on the table, Mabel in between with her hair spread out under her head. They’re laughing because of nothing. Norman puts an arm around her and gets his head on her neck. Her brother holds her hand, and stays in the exact same position she stays in.

They fall asleep, just like that – hair and hands and limbs all in a tangle. 

December has her wanting to lie down on nothing but this hard table; it has her wanting to forget there was any other month besides this.

 

**fin.**


End file.
